


Atlas of Human Anatomy

by arainymonday



Series: Gray's Anatomy [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Child Abuse, Grey's Anatomy-esque, M/M, Medical Trauma, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 16:14:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6431392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arainymonday/pseuds/arainymonday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Leonard Snart is chief of pediatric surgery at Central City General Hospital. Dr. Barry Allen is a surgical resident specializing in pediatric surgery. They’ve been ... something to each other for months. They’re ready to be ... something more. But falling in love is easier than being in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atlas of Human Anatomy

Being in a relationship with Len is like navigating a battlefield still strewn with minefields, and Barry has been crisscrossing the terrain at superspeed, causing explosions without seeing the damage for months. Len hasn’t mentioned the shrapnel impaling his heart and head yet, just sucked it up and kept surviving. He’s been riddled with bullets and debris his whole life. At least this time it’s unintentional.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Barry asks nervously.

The elevator pings to indicate they’re passing the second floor. Len doesn’t have to evade for long. Or maybe he does because Barry ignores the open doors on the third floor - his cue to go change into his scrubs and start pre-rounds - and rides up to the fourth floor with Len.

“I’m looking at you like I always look at you,” Len says.

“You always look at me like you’re undressing me with your eyes. These are not your undressing eyes, Len.”

Len draws in a deep breath and braces himself for the next explosion. He’s broached this subject before, and he thinks he’s done it pretty damn well. Maybe he has a flair for the dramatic sometimes, but he understands the power of patience and subtlety too. His suggestions that Barry stay the night at his place, that they go for drinks somewhere other than Saints & Sinners, that they share a meal outside of the CCGH cafeteria have all been met with distraction in on call rooms. And that’s ... okay, Len supposes. It’s not what he really wants from Barry, but it’s okay. He, a forty-something attending, doesn’t have the right to ask for more from a twenty-something resident.

“You’re right. I’m not trying to get into your pants today. I’m trying to get into your head.”

There it is. The panic invades Barry’s eyes and twitches through his anatomy, turning him into a bumbling wreck for half a minute. The landmine detonates inches in front of Len, piercing his heart with burning, razor sharp fragments. He turns away from Barry, staring up at the indicator lights on the elevator and living for the moment the number four illuminates and he can escape before something of his disappointment registers on his face.

“Maybe,” Barry starts. He has to stop, breathe. “Maybe we should go somewhere and talk after we’re done tonight? There are some things in my head that I could tell you about?”

Barry looks ... bashful. That’s not new, but Len hasn’t seen a blush on his cheeks in months. That look fills Len with a fire that melts the icy cold of his heart. He loves the feeling of his edges withering away into puddles at Barry’s feet, and he almost likes the man it reveals under the sculpted exterior. He can almost feel the good Barry sees in him then.

“I’ll make reservations someplace nice,” Len promises.

Barry darts forward, presses a kiss to Len’s lips, and disappears at superspeed. Len makes his way to the attending lounge at a normal pace. Everyone else has already arrived for the day, and Len’s late appearance draws stares. He ignores them as he crosses the room to his locker.

“Everything okay?” Mick asks.

“Peachy.”

They don’t say anything else until they’re changed into their scrubs and are pulling on their lab coats as they leave the lounge. Palmer is nosey, Thawne is Barry’s friend, and West is a stickler for rules. That room hasn’t been secret-safe in months. The hallways are more secure. They’re busy and the doctors and nurses rushing through them are too preoccupied to eavesdrop.

“Something happen with the resident?” Mick asks. There’s an edge to his voice, a promise of something unpleasant that Len doesn’t like directed at Barry, but appreciates about his best friend anyway because it’s nice to know someone in the world has his back.

“He asked me on a date.”

“He asked you? I thought he was - what did you call him - flighty?”

“I didn’t say that. But he’ll always be who he is.” Mick makes a noise that might be disagreement or disapproval, but isn’t good either way. “Just because we move at different speeds doesn’t mean it can’t work. He wants to talk.”

“Talk or ... talk.”

Mick’s voice doesn’t change enough for Len to hear any difference. He doesn’t think Barry would have blushed scarlet and kissed him goodbye if he wanted to talk about ending things. He’s not worried. Maybe he should be, but he’s not.

“Talk.”

They reach the conference room for Wells’ daily briefing so they cut off their conversation and take seats around the table. Len scrolls through his notes on upcoming surgeries for the day, but it’s all routine. There’s nothing major for him to report in the meeting or to keep him and Barry at the hospital late.

o o o

Len makes dinner reservations at an Italian restaurant in Keystone. It’s one of his favorites and far enough away from the hospital he feels confident they won’t run into anyone who shouldn’t know about their relationship. He tells Barry after they finish morning rounds.

“Okay, yeah. I’ll run home before we leave and grab something nicer.”

Barry doesn’t spend as much time out of scrubs as Len, who consults with patients in his office throughout the day while Barry is pre-rounding and taking patients for tests so it’s still okay for him to rush into work in jeans and a rumpled shirt. Len finds it endearing, though it’s probably more a side effect of the demands of residency than Barry’s personal style.

They step off the elevator into the cool surgical wing in the basement. Barry plops down on the benches by the nurse’s station to pull booties on over his sneakers and put on his favorite maroon and gold scrub cap that clashes with the hospital’s blue surgical gowns before they go scrub.

“You know I’ve done a solo appy before,” Barry says.

“Not on a kid you haven’t.”

“But I’ve seen you do one on a kid. I’m ready to do one myself.”

Len pauses with one shoe covered by the surgical bootie and considers Barry. He doesn’t look coy or playful. He’s serious, earnest, anxious. He’s not asking as Len’s ... whatever they are. He’s asking as a surgeon.

“All right, you can do the surgery.”

Like any resident who’s won a solo surgery, Barry lights up and barely manages to contain his triumph. The interns who have just finished scrubbing out from West’s first surgery of the day overhear and are on Barry like a descending horde. Len doesn’t work with interns. Ever. They’re walking disasters, too caught up in their own ambition and chasing surgeries to focus on tiny patients who can’t always verbalize their pain and can’t speak up for themselves if they’re ignored when something shinier distracts their doctors. But this isn’t Len’s surgery anymore.

“I’m going to need another pair of hands,” Barry says apologetically.

Len doesn’t comment, just waits for Barry to make up his mind about whether he’ll do things Len’s way or his own way. The interns are practically pissing themselves to get Barry’s attention. Barry stands and addresses them. He sounds more authoritative than Len has ever heard before. He likes it on Barry.

“Peds is a start-to-finish department,” Barry says. “You’ll have to do post-op and follow-up appointments with us. You might have to give up other surgeries to do it.”

None of this deters the interns who will likely flake on post-op and follow-ups anyway. Len hopes Barry turns them all away. He doesn’t want to deal with interns. He’ll make Barry supervise them every damn second they’re with a patient as punishment.

“That’d be a nice change of pace,” a male voice says, as an aside to the girl standing next to him.

Len recognizes the speaker lingering toward the back of the crowd. Jax. From the way he’s standing and walking around - presumably running through the hospital too - his ACL repair is holding up well. He hasn’t spotted Len yet, or doesn’t want to use their former patient-doctor relationship as leverage.

“If you’re serious about that, you can scrub in, Dr. ...” Barry says.  He glances over at Len, gauging how he’ll react to an intern in the OR, but Barry has chosen the only intern in the hospital Len doesn’t hate on principle.

“Dr. Jackson. Thank you so much, Dr. Allen. You won’t regret it.”

Finally, Jax offers Len a smile and holds out his fist. “Hey, Dr. Snart. Good to see you again.”

Len dutifully meets Jax halfway for a fist bump. Barry looks bowled over.

“You too, Jax. Dr. Jackson.” Jax waves off the formality. “Something tells me your mother is just as proud of you now as she would have been of you as a football star.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be here without your letter to the scholarship board so ....”

Now it’s Len’s turn to wave off Jax. They’ve had this conversation before. Having it again feels like he’s holding something over Jax, but Jax did all the hard work himself. Len only wrote a letter to Central City University telling them about Jax’s determination and courage when an accident foiled all his post-graduation plans.

Barry, however, is all questions so Len has to listen to Jax’s too gracious and slightly embellished version of events. He even goes so far as to call Len his “inspiration” for becoming a surgeon.

“Dr. Snart is pretty incredible,” Barry says. He makes the first incision. “I’m sure he’s inspired more patients than he thinks. Retractor, please.”

Len is grateful there’s less talk about his supposedly inspiring qualities as the surgery progresses. Barry is a natural teacher, talking through his steps for Jax’s benefit, but he doesn’t let Jax do anything other than hold the retractor. It’s a relief to see Barry act a little selfish, a little ambitious, a little bit like a show off because he - a resident - is performing the surgery while there’s an attending in the OR simply observing.

Everything goes smoothly, quickly. Barry adapted his knowledge of the surgery to a smaller, younger patient perfectly. They’re all three scrubbing out when Len gives Barry his assessment.

“Next time we have an appendectomy, they’re your patient. I’ll be on call, but I don’t need to be in the OR unless there’s a complication.”

Len watches the pride and victory settle into Barry’s posture and expression, but all he says is, “Thank you, Dr. Snart.” Jax looks at Barry like he’s been elevated to superhero status. Maybe working with an intern occasionally wouldn’t be so terrible. It would free up Barry from waiting on labs and imaging and give him more time with patients and to come with Len for consults.

He never would have considered compromising his rules for a resident in the past, but a resident has never lasted this long on his service before. It’s not about him and Barry being whatever they are. It’s about Barry reminding Len of himself. Not in temperament, but in skill and motivation. They’re in it for the glory, a little bit, but mostly they’re in it for the kids. That deserves respect and support, so that’s what Len will give.

“Dr. Jackson, you’re on my service this week,” Len says. “It’s a trial period only. Just to see how things go.”

Jax does an admirable job of covering his shock - he’s clearly heard the rumors about Len murdering incompetent interns - and adopts Barry’s tone when he says, “Thank you, Dr. Snart.”

Jax goes with their patient to recovery still looking like he doesn’t quite believe what just happened. He’ll be a legend in the hospital by lunchtime. Barry follows Len, gently teasing him the whole way about how he’s gone soft. It’s the perfect opening for innuendo, and normally Len would seize the opportunity, but he doesn’t want something rushed in an on call room today. He and Barry are going to talk tonight. He wants to have that conversation, whatever it ends up being, with a clear head.

o o o

Len hates that his favorite Italian restaurant is called La Bella Notte and the owners unironically have the silhouette of two dogs sharing a plate of spaghetti on their menu. Barry loves it, though. He points it out immediately and praises the owners for not being too stuck up to appreciate a classic romance.

“I love this place already,” Barry gushes.

Len hides a smile in the corner of his mouth as he surreptitiously watches Barry scan the menu. He’s charmed by everything about Barry, but by nothing more so than the depth and sincerity of his emotions. A yo-yo in a patient’s room is cause for delight, a friend’s frown is worthy of a minutes long hug, a kiss receives five in return. Barry’s emotions are a burning candle. Even shielding the flame doesn’t hide it well and someone’s hand gets burned. It’s better when he unsheathes his light on the world.

 _I love you_ , Len thinks. He says, “Do you know what you want?” And Barry thinks he’s talking about dinner because he’s not a mind reader and when Len hides his emotions, he blows out the candle flame, leaving only smoky trails in the air to hint that anything was ever there.

They order their meals and a bottle of Moscato which horrifies the sommelier, but Barry says he doesn’t like anything except the sweetest wine and Len’s icy glare convinces the sommelier to keep his opinion about that to himself.

“I picked the wrong wine,” Barry worries. “I should have let you pick. You probably know all about wine bouquets and how to pair it with our entrees. Not that I’m calling you an alcoholic or anything. I’m also not trying to be judgemental against alcoholics. That’s not helpful to anybody. I’m just saying, you’re a sophisticated man. I’m like ...” Barry gestures at his green button up and tie. “I can’t even tuck my shirt in right. It always gets bunched up in weird places. And Lisa tied my tie for me, but in my defense, Cisco tried too and he couldn’t get it right either.”

Barry’s eyes dart around nervously when he falls silent. Len savors a mouthful of wine and the sight of Barry discomposed with all his clothes still on.

“Well,” he says slowly, “that should give us enough conversation topics to carry us through dinner.” He ticks them off on his fingers. “What I do and don’t know about wine, the ethics of judging addiction, and the reasons you don’t know how to dress yourself. Something personal about me, something intellectual, something personal about you. It’s the perfect first date conversation.”

“Don’t tease me,” Barry says. There’s a hint of a laugh in his voice, so Len decides to go ahead and do just that.

“I learned everything I know about wine from Mick.”

“Wait. Do you mean Dr. Rory? He doesn’t seem like the wine type. There’s definitely a story there.”

Len regales Barry with his memories of the CCGH Holiday Party during his intern year. It’s an event Mick claims not to have attended, but only because he doesn’t want to be blamed for the curtains in the residents’ lounge catching fire when he tried to light a menorah or for smuggling said curtains out of the hospital tatter-by-tatter for the next three weeks because any doctor who brings an open flame into a hospital where there are oxygen lines will not only get fired, but probably prosecuted as well.

“Basically, he taught me that getting drunk on wine is a terrible idea,” Len concludes.

Barry is laughing so hard there are tears leaking out of his eyes. It’s a beautiful sight.

“Oh my God,” Barry wheezes. “That’s how you became friends! Your resident almost blew up the hospital in a fit of drunken holiday revelry and you helped him cover it up.”

“Just don’t tell Mick I told you the story.”

“Why not? You didn’t promise not to?”

“Because he’ll have plenty of things to add about what I did that night.”

Barry doesn’t stop pestering him for details until they’re finished with dessert and the waiter clears away their plates. Len only tells him one more thing about that night.

“It involves a turtle.”

Barry pauses with his wine glass halfway to his lips. “Like a real turtle?” Len nods. “Okay, no. I need details. I’m imagining terrible things, Len. Terrible. Please tell me no turtles were harmed.”

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Lisa wanted a turtle for Christmas, but it was Christmas Eve already and all the stores were closed so we broke into the Central City Zoo and stole one for her.”

Barry blinks at Len for a minute. “How do you break into a zoo? How do you even get the idea of breaking into a zoo?”

“A lot of things sound like good ideas when you’re drunk.”

“Wait. You were drunk too? And you managed to pull off a turtle liberation?”

Len’s grin breaks across his face slowly, and he turns away instinctively to hide the genuine mirth bleeding through him. He doesn’t know why he expected anything else from Barry. Of course he would see it as a liberation, not a theft.

Their laughter settles into content quiet. Only the sound of forks tinkling against plates and low conversation and tires zooming over the rain-soaked road outside break through the bubble surrounding their table. Barry speaks first.

“So I know that we still have to talk about the ethics of judging addiction and the reasons I can’t dress myself, but maybe we can table those for now? I asked you out tonight so I could tell you some things I have in my head.”

Len’s fingers tighten around the bulb of his wine glass. The liquid inside is warm now, its enjoyment ruined for him, but he holds onto the glass like an anchor. He nods slightly, almost timidly, if Len ever did anything timidly.

“Okay, yeah. I ... I wanted to talk about ... us?” Barry looks up from the tablecloth. What he sees in Len’s expression is a mystery, but he straightens up, stops fidgeting, keeps eye contact. “Yeah, I wanted to talk about us.”

“What about us, Barry?” Len asks quietly.

“I’ve been lying to you, Len.”

The delicious Italian dinner Len enjoyed turns into a lead weight in his stomach. It’s not rational. Barry has been charming in his way, laughing, flirting all night. He’s not cruel. He wouldn’t do all of that and mean this the way it sounds. But the words are knives at his throat.

“I’ve been pretending that what’s between us is just physical,” Barry says. “But it’s not and it never was for me, and I shouldn’t have let you think that’s all I want from you. Because I want so much more, Len. I’ve been stuck in this place where I didn’t know if it was worse to tell you how I feel and ask for something that I don’t have any right to want or to suffer in silence.”

Barry runs a hand through this hair, takes a breath, and keeps talking before Len speaks a single word.

“You said once that one of us has to play the villain for us to move forward. You’ve done that for us and now it’s my turn. I know I shouldn’t be saying any of this. I know I shouldn’t be asking for more than what we have. But I am, Len. I’m asking if you’ll let me be part of your life outside the hospital. If you’ll be part of mine too. I shouldn’t ask, but I am because ... I’ve fallen for you.”

Len feels a strange sensation in his chest. It’s like he’s had a tracheotomy. It’s a sudden rush of air to his lungs when a terrible, crushing pressure is removed except he didn’t know there had been any pressure on his chest. Barry is starting to look nervous. Tendrils of fear flick through his eyes like lightning. 

“Yes,” Len says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Yes,” he says louder.

“Yes?”

“Yes, Barry. Yes, I’ll go on dates with you and clear out closet space for you and meet you in on call rooms to listen to you vent about Rathaway and invite you to family dinners with Lisa and Cisco.”

Barry rubs the back of his neck. His cheeks are flushed. “Wow, I’m so glad I didn’t say something juvenile like ‘Will you be my boyfriend?’”

“Yes.”

Barry’s mouth works silently, and finally he settles for a familiar smile that is somehow bashful and smug. Only Barry can pull off contradiction so well. He reaches out for Barry’s hand across the table and starts when a jolt of electricity shocks him. There are visible currents running over Barry’s skin. They don’t hurt Len. They excite him. So he doesn’t let go.

o o o

The trip from the restaurant to Len’s apartment is a literal blur. He’s not sure if Barry carried him or his superspeed is transferable or what happened, but one moment he’s signing a credit card slip - despite Barry’s protests, because residents are exploited as cheap labor and drowning in student loans - and the next he’s pressed into the softness of his mattress with Barry’s weight on top of him.

“You’re lucky I don’t get motion sick or this wouldn’t have turned out as sexy as you’d planned,” he says.

Barry laughs against the skin of his neck. “I hadn’t thought of that. I’ve never tried taking someone with me when I run before.”

“So I’m your guinea pig?”

“You’re my boyfriend.”

The word sounds a little immature to Len. He prefers partner. But Barry seems to love it. Whether it’s a Barry thing or a millennial thing, he’s not sure and doesn’t care as long as it turns Barry’s kisses into smiles. Len runs his hands up Barry’s torso, slipping under the untucked button up and warming his fingers against heated skin. Barry moans and nips Len’s neck and spreads his legs farther and sinks down onto Len.

“What do you want tonight, Barry?”

Barry sits back on his knees, still straddling Len. He looks glorious with his windswept hair and clothes aschew. He starts on their shirts, working buttons free while he teases Len with his shifting hips.

“You want me to fuck you?”

A thrill races up Len’s spine. He takes Barry’s hands, tugs him back down, presses a searing kiss to Barry’s lips. So few of Len’s partners have ever suggested it, assuming he wouldn’t want it, perhaps equating it with loss of control, something Len hates. But Barry asks like he’s doing Len a favor, offering to give him something he needs because he knows Len won’t ask.

“Fuck, Barry. You know I do.”

Barry takes them out of their clothes, rushing and eager as always. He wears a mischievous grin like he has something planned that Len will love. Len isn’t wrong. On his way back up the bed, Barry spreads Len’s legs and worships his sensitive inner thighs. His mouth pulls moans and expletives from Len.

 _I love you._ He says, “I love how well you know me.”

Barry hits every spot that drives Len wild, taking him apart piece-by-piece, and only then deigning to slick up his fingers and open Len up. It's torturous and exquisite, exactly what Len loves. It feels selfish to Len, like he’s taking more than he should, but then Barry is pushing into him too fast and falling apart above Len and it feels balanced again. The build up and afterglow - the dramatics, as Barry refers to them - those are for Len. This - the pull and chase - is for Barry.

Here in his apartment, far away from on call rooms and eavesdropping ears, Len doesn’t feel the need to bite his lower lip and confine his bliss to low murmurs about Barry’s beauty and talents and how good he makes Len feel. He thinks it catches Barry off guard, the full volume of his moans, because he loses his rhythm too quickly, is practically vibrating when he comes hard while he’s still inside Len.

“Holy fuck,” Barry whimpers. “Your voice, Len. _Jesus_.”

Len basks in the compliment while Barry tosses aside the condom and goes in search of another one. He’s back in a flash, pushing into Len again and grinning like the cat that got the cream.

“I’m going to hell for being happy that damned particle accelerator exploded,” Len says.

Barry laughs, kisses Len deeply while his hips find a pace he likes. It’s not in Barry’s nature to draw anything out. He doesn’t ever make Len wait to come, unless Len asks him too. He keeps fucking into Len after he’s spent, knowing that Len likes the feeling of just a little bit too much, until he reaches his own second climax.

“You want a third?” Len asks.

Barry gives a choked off sob where he lays against Len’s sweaty chest. “I can’t.”

“I wore you out with just two?”

“I have no idea how you last so long,” Barry pants.

“Just be thankful I have so much stamina or the sex would be really boring for you.”

Barry peels himself off of Len finally, grabs some tissues to clean them up, and settles onto his side next to Len. He lets their legs twine together, touches Len everywhere and leaves electric currents behind, kisses him softly and ravenously, whispers sweet things into Len’s ear - I’m happy when I’m with you, I never thought I could feel this way about anyone again, you healed my heart - that he would never allow anyone but Barry to say to him.

o o o

Word must get around about him and Barry dating officially at record speed because suddenly there are residents paying a lot more attention to him. Len doesn’t know Iris West from Adam, but she’s staring at him while she stabs a chicken caesar salad in the cafeteria. Eddie - who Len has worked with for years and likes, even if they’re not friends - keeps trying to draw her attention away, but she’s intent on staring him to death, apparently.

Caitlin makes the mistake of trying to be overly friendly when they pass in the hallway, and it’s awkward for both of them because they’re not naturally sunny people. Ronnie makes the same mistake, but he pulls it off better because, as Lisa’s friend, he has some history with Len.

Nothing changes with Cisco. He’s still Cisco, which is fine with Len because he’ll never admit it, but he really, genuinely likes his sister’s boyfriend. He has humble beginnings and he’s on his way to becoming a world class neurosurgeon, according to Martin. Most importantly, he treats Lisa like a queen. He says ‘I love you’ and ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘You were right’ (and ‘You’re wrong’, which Lisa needs to be told on occasion). So Len is willing to forgive him for being too eager and somewhat annoying. Usually.

“Hey, Len.”

Len looks up from his computer as Cisco shuffles into his office and throws himself onto the loveseat beside the bookcase stuffed to overflowing with books, medical reference guides, and old journals. Len blinks at him silently, but Cisco is doing what all good residents do when they’re not in surgery and not sleeping - eating - and doesn’t notice the chilly look.

“Hello, Cisco. I didn’t realize we were on a nickname basis. Or that you had an open invitation to my office.”

“Of course we’re on a nickname basis. My full name is Francisco, so ... you started it.”

“Cute.”

“Aw, thank you,” Cisco says, with faux demure.

“What can I do for you, Cisco?”

He shrugs, pops another chip into his mouth, and props his feet up on the coffee table. “I just thought we should hang out and get to know each other better. You know, since I’m dating your sister and you’re dating my best friend.”

Len exhales before answering to keep himself from saying something he regrets. “This isn’t the best time. I have a patient consult in half an hour.”

“And I will totally be gone by then ... if you agree to grab a drink at Saints & Sinners.” Len’s intention to refuse is clear. “I’m taking that as a yes!”

“Well, it’s not.”

“Great! I’ll see you there at eight.” Cisco leaps up from the sofa and dashes out the door, then pops his head around the jamb. “Don’t bring Barry.” He disappears and reappears in under five seconds. “Only because if you do, Lisa will kick my ass.”

That piques Len’s interest. “Cisco!” Sneakers squeak on the tiles outside Len’s office and Cisco reappears a few seconds later. “Why has my sister made threats against you?”

Cisco looks like he’s mentally kicking himself, but then a curious change comes over him. He takes a breath, stands up straighter, stops fidgeting. He looks years old, like a doctor his actual age.

“I proposed to Lisa, but she said no ... because you don’t know me well enough to give your blessing. She said she wants me to ask again after you do. So I need you to meet me for a drink at Saints & Sinners tonight at eight.”

Len sits back in his chair, elbows resting on the arms and fingers steepling as he observes Cisco. The thing is, Len knows everything he needs to about Cisco and how Lisa feels about him to give his blessing. And he would in a heartbeat. It’s Lisa who isn’t sure and she’s blaming Len. Isn’t sure of what, though? That’s the million dollar question Len is going to ask her.

“I’ll be there,” Len says.

It’s as good as a blessing, and Cisco knows it. The smile breaking across his face is brighter than the sun. No wonder he and Barry are best friends. No wonder Len and Lisa have fallen for them.

o o o

They have to push drinks because Martin picks Cisco to scrub in on an astrocytoma. Cisco is actually on his way to find Rathaway to ask him to scrub in instead so he can still get drinks when Len runs into him and immediately sends him back to the operating wing. That’s a surgery no neuro resident should give up. Len goes in search of Lisa instead. He finds her at the nurse’s station in the orthopedics ward leaving cookies for the night nurses.

“So this is how you maintain your empire,” Len says.

“She learned from the best. It’s good to see you again, Dr. Snart.” The nurse’s name is Janet, and she used to be in the pediatrics ward, but it got too hard on her seeing kids sick all the time and she requested a transfer. “Hospital scuttlebutt says you’ve taken on a resident _and_ an intern.”

“You too, Janet. What can I say? I’m getting soft in my old age.”

Janet is at least sixty. She can laugh at him about his age. Janet whisks the cookies away to the nurse’s lounge before any passing doctors try to steal from her horde. Lisa looks suspicious that Len is here when he should be with Cisco at Saints & Sinners.

“I sent your _boyfriend_ into surgery so we can talk.”

They don’t go to Saints & Sinners or to either of their apartments. They walk around to the south side of the hospital where they can sit on the cool grass at the top of a knoll, look down at the lights of Keystone illuminating the night, and feel like they’re on top of the world. Mick showed Len this spot after he’d lost his first patient, and Len had brought Lisa here after she’d treated her first domestic violence victim. They all come here now when they need silence. It’s their safe place.

“What’s going on, trainwreck?” Lisa sends him a pouty glare. “The love of your life asks you to marry him and you say no. That gives me every right to call you a trainwreck.”

For all this might start light and humorous, Len knows it’s headed somewhere serious. He gives Lisa time to sort through her thoughts and decide if she wants to be honest or not. She draws in a breath. It’s a move she learned from him. It puts a smile in the corner of his mouth. He reaches out for her, touches her shoulder lightly. The tension bleeds out of her under his hand.

“They’ll ask why you’re walking me down the aisle,” Lisa says. “And we’ll have to tell Cisco’s family that dad is in prison for murder. That he’s a killer and a thief and he taught us how to be thieves too. Cisco’s family, who can’t even understand that neurosurgery trumps knowing how to play the piano. I’m exactly the kind of trash they expect -”

“You are not,” Len says too loudly. “You are a surgeon. You are Chief Resident, the best in your year. Harrison looked at every fifth year resident at this hospital, and he chose you over everyone. Over Ronnie, protege of the legendary Dr. Martin Stein. You are not trash, Lisa.”

Lisa gives him a sardonic look. “I know I’m not trash, Lenny. You don’t really think a girl could date Cisco Ramon for almost four years and feel like trash.”

Len isn’t sure if this is genuine or an act until she pats his hand like he’s an idiot child.

“Logic isn’t on your side here, Lise. The kid gets his heart broken by someone at the end either way. Either by you saying no or by his family being assholes. The least you could do is not subject him to drinks with me while you decide.”

Lisa lays her head against his shoulder, and he wraps her tighter in a one-armed hug.

“I know, but I really do want you two to be better friends. It’s nice that we have family meals together, but you don’t interact if I’m not around. You’re going to be brothers, Lenny. You should know each other.”

“So you’re going to say yes?”

Lisa smacks him hard on the arm. It hurts too. She’s stronger than she looks.

“Let’s talk about Barry,” she says, “and how he’s _fallen for you_.”

“Let’s not.”

He tries to stand, but his own affection is used against him. Lisa wraps her arms around his waist and sits there like a lead weight until he gives up escaping the conversation.

“You know there’s not a new development every day. We’re surgeons. We’re busy.”

“But that’s not why it took you months to define your relationship. I know you move slow, but glacial is a little ridiculous. I’m willing to forgive you both for being stupid, though, because you’re finally together. But I’m not willing to forgive you for not telling Barry how you feel.”

“Lisa,” he says warningly.

“This is exactly what always -”

Len tears himself from her grasp and stalks away. Anger simmers under his collected facade, and unfortunately for a group of interns waiting by the ambulance bay, they earn his ire by being too eager about incoming traumas. He hears Lisa’s heels clicking on the concrete when he’s barely halfway through his lecture about being decent human beings and not wishing horrific accident on people so they can cut open human flesh. He’s just at the part where he’s going to call them all deranged sociopaths when Lisa catches up, grasps his elbow, and steers him toward the parking lot.

“Captain Cold’s reputation is secure for another year,” she says bitingly.

“I don’t want to talk about the past, Lisa,” he snaps.

“Fine.” She takes her hand off him, raising both palms in surrender, but she’s pouting again. “All I’m saying is that you’re making some similar mistakes, Lenny. For someone who was so concerned that Barry wasn’t talking to you, you’re being awfully silent.”

Damn her. Len can’t think about anything else but those words for the next week.

o o o

Barry finds Len an hour before they’re scheduled to implant a pacemaker. Their patient, a four-year-old with a sweet disposition and a weak heart, is happily napping on her dad and doesn’t have a care in the world according to Barry, unlike her parents who are understandably on edge. Jax is taking another patient for a CT.

“We have a whole hour with nothing to do,” Barry says.

“Actually, we do. Martin asked me to consult with a patient tomorrow - her condition is genetic, but she won’t have her kids tested - so I need to brush up on my neuro research. So should you. You’re coming to the consult.”

Barry sits up straighter. “But I’m still a resident.”

“You’re my resident. You’re coming to consults with me so you can learn from me. It’s the whole reason I have Jax on my service, to do the grunt work and free you up for the good stuff.”

“Wait. That’s why we’re working with Jax? For me?”

Len nods and next second the door is closed, blinds are shut, and Barry has him pressed into a wall and is kissing him like the world is ending.

“Before,” Barry says breathlessly, “I was suggesting we go to an on call room, but this will have to do.”

Barry sinks to his knees and loosens the ties on Len’s scrub pants. They slide down to his ankles. His briefs follow and Barry is stroking him to hardness. The papers he’d been reading fall from his hands and scatter over the office. Len’s head falls back against the wall. He hears Ray’s voice pause in the middle of explaining heart murmurs to a patient’s parents in the next office.

“Not here. All the attendings have offices in this wing.”

“Then I guess you’d better be quieter than when we were in your bed,” Barry says and swallows him down.

Len manages to stay quiet, but there are teeth marks on his hand for his efforts and Barry’s hair is a mess that can’t be fixed by running his fingers through it. Barry tucks him back in and ties his scrub pants and kisses Len’s stomach as he stands up. He tastes like Len when they kiss and it’s not pleasant, but it is hot. Len’s hand hurts from biting it so he takes some savage pleasure in delivering his assessment of their situation.

“I can’t keep you quiet without my cock in your mouth so I hope you got off on that.” Barry’s eyes widen in shock. Len kisses him quickly. “I’ll take care of you tonight. If you’re coming over?”

Barry huffs. “I guess I am. Tease.”

Len laughs. “Go observe Jax’s pre-op with Madison. I’ll see you in the OR.”

Mick is waiting outside his office when Barry opens the door. Barry’s face goes slack and pale, then he bolts - at normal speed. Len hopes no one sees him leaving the office with hair that messed up. Mick only arches an eyebrow as he steps into Len’s office.

“On call room not dangerous enough for you two?”

Len gathers up the papers strewn about his office. “What’s up, Mick?”

“How open is your pro bono docket?”

“Depends on the circumstances.”

“Fourteen-year-old kid needs a skin graft. His son of a bitch father threw battery acid on his face because he got a C+ in gym class.”

“Fuck,” Len mutters. He hates these cases, but they’re also why he’s a surgeon. “Of course I’ll do it. How many hours?”

Mick shrugs. “We’re talking months of work. A hundred hours? Two?”

Harrison has a conscience and encourages his attendings to do pro bono work, but even he will have a hard time managing to carve out a couple hundred hours of time, equipment, and operating rooms for one case.

“I’ll make it happen.”

“Harrison already told me no.”

“I’ll make him say yes,” Len promises.

Barry notices Len’s diminished mood the second he steps into the scrub room, and he’s clearly offended by it given it’s been all of twenty minutes since he gave Len a blowjob, but he doesn’t say anything explicitly because Jax follows him to the sinks. Len tells them about the pro bono case Mick is scheduling for tomorrow. Harrison can’t say no to the kid’s face. He can yell at Len later, but he can’t say no.

“That is fucked up,” Jax says, summarizing Len’s reaction in the mildest terms possible.

“Have you worked with burn victims before?” Len asks. Barry looks queasy, so he has. Jax shakes his head. “Prepare yourself tonight. There’s nothing worse. It’s easier to tell a patient their condition is terminal than to listen to a burn victim cry because their nerves are exposed and raw.”

On that happy note, they head into the OR to insert a pacemaker into a four-year-old’s abdomen. The world is a fucked up place and they’re all doing the best they can to correct it a little bit.

o o o

“This job is hard,” Barry says.

His voice is a ghost of breath against the back of Len’s neck and it rouses him from the edge of sleep. Len turns over. He can see the serious line of Barry’s lips when his eyes adjust to the haze of nighttime city lights filtering through the curtains. He brings a hand up to Barry’s hair still damp from their shower.

“You need to talk?”

Barry handled himself well when they met with the burn victim, a brave kid called Daniel, and he’d kept the boy calm while Mick worked on him. Daniel loves physics and astronomy and has theories about extraterrestrial life that he and Barry discussed endlessly today, and probably will every time Daniel comes back for an appointment to get more work done. But to talk to Daniel is to look at his face while Mick debrides scar tissue, to see the pain in his eyes because surprisingly gentle as Mick’s hands are, no anesthetic can dull the agony well enough. Jax had excused himself twice, Len once when he spotted the scarred over cigarette burns on the kid’s arm. Only Barry and Mick had stayed with Daniel for three hours without looking away from his face.

Barry’s right hand settles on Len’s hip, the fingers of his left tangling with Len’s on the pillows between them.

“I can’t remember why we do this,” Barry says. His voice is weary, dull. “I know I want to do it. I know it’s important. I just can’t remember why right now.”

“We’re built to fix things other people have tried to break.”

“I keep asking myself if it’s hard because they’re kids,” Barry says, “and I don’t think it is, not for me. I think it’s hard because it’s hard. It’s human suffering. It’s senseless and cruel and the only way I know how to deal with it is to fight back.”

“That’s why you’re going to be a great pediatric surgeon, Barry. It’s supposed to hurt, but not because they’re kids. It’s supposed to hurt because they’re human and they shouldn’t have to live through hell to find their happiness. Nobody wants a doctor who pities them. They want empathy, compassion, but not pity. Especially not kids.”

“I’ll remember why we do this tomorrow.”

“You will,” Len promises. “For now, sleep. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Barry rolls over and settles himself against Len, draws Len’s arm over his side, presses Len’s hand to his too rapidly beating - but normal for Barry - heart. Len drops kisses on the back of Barry’s neck and shoulder.

“Goodnight, Barry.” _I love you._

Len doesn’t sleep until long after Barry’s breath has evened out and cars begin to pass under the window less frequently and Central City dims to a low hum of activity. Lisa’s words are disquiet spirits in his mind. They dredge up ghosts he’d rather forget - past lovers never able to break through his defenses, acquaintances on the cusp of friendship discouraged by his distance, family members who faded into shadow one-by-one when presented with his turmoil until he had only Lisa.

Even Clarissa had struggled to reach Len, who she’d met as a fourteen-year-old with a shiv in his side and half his blood on the gurney under him when they’d wheeled him into CCGH. She never gives up on anyone. Not a stormy teenage patient with a chip on his shoulder, not his sister causing chaos in the ward during her daily visits, not an arrogant neurosurgeon husband who spends too much time at work. But Len barely talks to her - the woman who saved his life, mentored him on her service, is the closest thing to a mother figure he has anymore - these days. Because he’s busy, because he has other commitments, because she tells him things like ‘If Martin and I had ever had a son, I hope he’d be like you’ that make him want to cry later when he’s alone because he wishes he’d had a better mom who didn’t save herself at the expense of her son.

Lisa is right. His past is littered with the carnage of hearts he’s broken with cold silence. He doesn’t want pieces of Barry strewn across his battlefield. But she’s also wrong. He and Barry aren’t silent. What used to be frozen is thawing. It’s water trickling down a glacier, but it’s moving all the same.

o o o

Spring gives way to summer and the peds ward is busier than ever. Parents want to schedule elective and minor surgeries over summer break so their kids have weeks to recover before school starts and the number of children coming into the ER doubles. There are lacerations from bike chains to suture, broken bones to set, spinal fusions to schedule on top of their routine cases.

The increased workload takes the hardest toll on Jax, who is run off his feet ordering tests and bringing results to Len and Barry, and they should both be more mindful of the hours he’s working because Harrison will have a fit next time he reviews the interns' surgical hours. Even Lisa has warned him that holy fire will rain down on him about this and the fact that he’s kept Jax on his service twice as long as intern rotations are supposed to last. The problem is, Jax is always right there when Len or Barry need him - never complaining, never yawning, never slowing down for a second - without them even needing to ask.

If Len is being honest with himself, he allows this because it means Barry gets to leave the hospital at a reasonable time at least a couple days a week. Len can take him out to dinner, they can talk and unwind, they can go back to his apartment (never Barry’s apartment - Cisco and Lisa have claimed that territory) and to bed.

They have time at night, in the isolation of Len’s bedroom, to take each other apart, to savor every moment and moan, to explore and memorize each other’s bodies and preferences like they never could in on call rooms. Barry knows now how much Len loves morning sex and how it puts him in a better mood for the rest of the day, even if Murphy’s Law is true with a vengeance that day, so he sets the alarm for early when he stays over. Len knows now that Barry likes taking showers together, but not shower sex, so they spend their morning afterglows under a spray of water, kissing and arguing over the best temperature.

They’re too busy for afternoon pick-me-ups in on call rooms, but sometimes Barry will superspeed into Len’s office before a consult, upsetting all the carefully arranging piles of papers on his desk, and kiss Len so thoroughly he wants to kick the door closed and forget the world.

Patty arrives at Len’s door with a patient, knocking him out of his thoughts with her terse frown. (Len suspects she’s not over Len stealing Barry out from under her, though she doesn’t know that’s what happened to Barry’s interest).  The patient is a fifteen-year-old girl with symbrachydactyly. Her name is Rachel and she’s wearing a shirt that Cisco owns - Entropy Happens - so she’ll get along famously with Barry, whenever he arrives.

Len tries not to let his irritation with Barry’s tardiness show as he greets Rachel and her dad or his worry when he sees them out of his office twenty minutes later and directs them to the nurses’ station to schedule Rachel’s next appointment with Len, Mick, and Lisa. (Rachel has some movement of her palm and Len hopes that means they can find a way make a fully functioning hand for her, maybe from stem cells or 3D printing or building prosthetic fingers). Barry never showed up for the appointment, and that’s not like him.

He’s just about to page Barry when his own phone vibrates. It’s an emergency call to OR 7 from Barry. There’s only one reason Barry would be in surgery without Len - an emergency appendectomy - and only one reason he would page Len in the middle of it - it’s not routine. Len takes off at a run.

It feels like it takes Len days get to the surgical wing and burst into OR 7 with his chest heaving and a scrub mask held over his face. It’s not quite chaos inside, but it’s nothing like Len’s carefully controlled surgeries. Barry is doing chest compressions while Jax holds three clamps in the patient’s abdomen. For God knows what reason, Joe West is there, but not in a surgical gown.

“This is pointless. He’s allergic to the anesthetic. You didn’t catch it quick enough and now he’s dead,” Dr. Mardon declares.

“ _He_ didn’t catch it quick enough? You’re the anesthesiologist, Mardon!” West shouts back. Their feud is infamous within the walls of CCGH, and Len doesn’t have time for it today.

Barry whispers the count while he presses on the kid’s chest. Len pushes forward through the scrub nurses waiting for Barry’s direction. Barry’s eyes shine with relief that Len is here, and Len tries not to feel the pressure of that faith in him.

“How long has he been down?” Len asks.

“Three minutes,” Barry answers.

That’s not great, but it’s not the end yet. But the end does come thirteen minutes later after Len takes over the surgery because Barry can’t or won’t call it. He orders everyone out with a quiet word, stares down West and Mardon until they comply, and takes the breath bag from the scrub nurse. He squeezes air into the patient’s lungs while Barry pumps his chest. He counts to ten, waits for Barry to realize they’re alone in the OR, and stops breathing for the patient.

“It’s time to call it,” Len says quietly.

“No. This can’t happen. Patients don’t die under general anesthesia anymore.”

“Yes, they do. It does happen. Usually we can bring them back, but not always. Not if we don’t realize what’s happening fast enough.”

Barry’s shoulders sag. His hands lay unmoving on the kid’s chest. “How does he come to us with a ruptured appendix and die of heart failure? It doesn’t make any kind of sense.”

There are tears in Barry’s eyes. He’s been kicked down too much lately, seen too many hard cases, lost too many patients. Len stares at the tiles between his shoes, focuses on one small, insignificant portion of the room and imagines his vital organs turning to ice, crystals forming over his heart and lungs and guts before freezing solid. It’s the only way he can say this to Barry, the man he loves and loves more than he thought himself capable. It’s painful and cruel what he has to say, but he has no choice. He loves Barry and he promised to teach Barry, and sometimes those two things are in conflict.

“Dr. Allen, your patient is dead because you made a mistake. You need to accept that. You need to call time of death so you can go tell his family that the impossible happened.”

Barry doesn’t speak to Len for two weeks.

o o o

Len waits by the elevator with two cups of cooling coffee for twenty minutes before he gives up and tosses them both in the trash and stabs the elevator call button. Barry had yesterday off and didn’t respond to Len’s text asking him to dinner so he knows Barry is pissed, but he doesn’t expect Barry to skip their morning routine.

Harrison joins Len on the ride up to the fourth floor.

“I’m interested to see how the next two weeks go,” Harrison says. “I might have a bit of a bet going with Martin and Joe about how you’ll manage without Barry.”

Len doesn’t know what the hell Harrison is talking about, and he’s about to throw an almighty fit that the Chief put his resident on another service - because it’s courtesy at CCGH for him to speak to attendings about needs in other departments first - when Harrison goes on.

“Don’t look at me like that, Leonard. It’s a friendly bet.”

“What are you doing stealing my resident, Harrison?”

Harrison’s expression shifts to something less open and warm. “Hopefully I’m rubber stamping your resident moving their vacation up because if Dr. Allen lied to me about getting your approval first, I’m afraid we’ll have a problem when he gets back.”

Len turns away quickly, his face settling into a blank mask and his heart pounding against his ribs. He crosses his arms over his chest, lifts his chin. “I was counting on you to say no, actually.”

Harrison makes an amused sound. “Since when have I been the bad guy?”

Len follows Harrison out of the elevator and heads toward his office rather than the attending lounge. He needs a few minutes alone. He slumps into his desk chair and stares through the blind slats covering the window. The knot of dread in his stomach unfurls. Its tendrils invade his heart and head and eyes. He blinks the tendrils away.

“Lenny.”

Lisa sounds soft, timid. _Fuck._ He can’t talk to her right now, can’t listen to what she’s going to tell him - what she heard from Cisco or saw herself - because he _knows_ that Barry isn’t at his apartment, isn’t anywhere Len will find him. He might have run halfway across the country to get away from Len.

“I told him to talk to you before he left,” she says. “Please tell me he did.”

He imagines the scene. Barry would have gotten home late, so he’d burst in while Lisa and Cisco sat on the couch eating dinner out of takeaway containers and started packing. Cisco being Cisco knows he doesn’t have vacation planned, and Barry being Barry can’t hold anything back from his best friend, even if Lisa is in the next room. So she probably knows the whole story, and she’s Chief Resident so she understands that teaching moments are harsh and ugly and raw sometimes and that doesn’t undermine their value. But junior residents don’t know that yet so Barry is heartbroken and Cisco is horrified, and Lisa can’t side with them against her brother, but can’t side with her brother against her almost-fiance so she tries to be the voice of reason. And she fails because reason will always fail with Barry in the end. He feels too much for reason.

“Of course he did,” Len says. He stands up, grabs his spare lab coat off the rack, and pretends he’s doing rounds in his own clothes instead of scrubs today. “I have double the work now, though, so I’m starting rounds.”

Len doesn’t have trouble concentrating when he’s with his patients and in surgery. He doesn’t think about the blank space beside him where Barry normally stands. He doesn’t hesitate to offer Jax the chance to close a patient. Because if he’s distracted or sad, children die and he won’t let that happen, not even if his heart is so cold it’s numb by the end of the day.

o o o

Len is bone-tired. He hasn’t slept in four days, and it’s not the chasing-a-surgery high the residents power through or the researching-to-save-a-critical-patient marathon he’s been known to pull in the medical library. This is the heart sick kind of sleeplessness, the kind of sleeplessness that feels like the world is on his chest and minutes stretch like hours and the emptiness beside him takes shape in the dark to taunt him.

He calls Barry several times the first two days, texts him whenever there’s a spare moment the next two. He feels pathetic, but he can’t give up until Barry responds. He’s not some lovesick idiot who falls apart when his boyfriend isn’t around. But he is the person who can’t let go, who doesn’t know how to stop chasing what he wants. What he wants is Barry’s attention. He won’t rest - won’t sleep - until he has it.

The problem is, no one is keen to help him with his plan. Cisco and Caitlin literally run the other way whenever they see Len. Iris’ chicken caesar salad stabbing from a few months ago looks tame in comparison to the death glares she sends him now. They’ve clearly been given instructions to tell Len nothing, and as an attending, he has a great deal of influence over their careers so they’re keeping their distance lest their loyalty to Barry endangers their surgical hours.

“Afternoon, Dr. Snart.”

Ronnie joins Len at the scrub sinks and they watch the surgical team wheel in their patient - a little girl called Becca with an operable, but barely so, brain tumor. Normally, Len would insist Martin perform the surgery, but Ronnie is a natural born neurosurgeon. It’s almost like he’s channeling Martin in surgery. He’s a shoo-in for the neuro fellowship next year.

He’s also one of Lisa’s best friends and maybe the only straight man Len has ever known to be immune to her charms. Len has good memories of Ronnie and Lisa taking over his living room to study for the intern exam and ruining his fruit bowl practicing running whip stitches back when Lisa still lived with him. Len wouldn’t say he and Ronnie were friends, but they’re friendly.

“He’s in Star City,” Ronnie says.

The weight of the world lifts off Len’s chest, then comes crashing down on him again. Felicity is in Star City. Felicity, the love of Barry’s life. Felicity, the reason Barry didn’t date for two years. Felicity, who is young and pretty and ambitious and smart and geeky and is perfect for Barry except that she lives six hundred miles away. In Star City. Where Barry is now.

“I’m telling you because I’m not playing this game of secrets or getting between two friends,” Ronnie explains. “But, mostly, because I’m not going into surgery with anything negative between us. It’s going to be a long surgery and a hard one.”

Len draws in a steadying breath. This is why he likes Ronnie. There are no dramatics with him, no grandeur. He does what needs to be done, and if his talent doesn’t speak for itself, then he didn’t need the praise anyway and he’ll work harder next time. It’s not Len’s style, but it’s a good one to team up with in surgery, especially right now.

“We need to be focused,” Len agrees. “A team.”

“I’ll buy you a drink after.”

Len doesn’t hold him to it, not after so many things go wrong in the surgery. They’re both dead on their feet when they send Becca off to recovery, but Ronnie even more than Len. He’d kept his cool every time Becca’s intracranial pressure spiked, when the tumor was more complex than the MRI showed and figured out how to keep her alive and still remove the tumor. He sends Ronnie off to find some dinner and Caitlin and tells Becca’s parents the good news.

He’s wide awake by the time he gets home. He doesn’t sleep. He texts Barry, checks flights to Star City (a pipe dream, he can’t get away in the middle of summer), texts Barry again, finally lays down. But he doesn’t sleep.

o o o

“I’m stealing the kid from you,” Mick announces.

It takes Len too long to figure out he’s talking about Jax. They’ve just finished another appointment with Daniel, and it was rough without Barry there to talk about alien conspiracy theories. Jax made a valiant attempt, but he’s a football guy, not a science fiction fan.

“Jax is my intern,” Len argues. “He’s on my service.”

“He’s been on your service for months. It’s time to share.”

“Isn’t that rich? You, talking about sharing?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Thawne joins them by the elevator and answers for Len. “You change the surgical board without permission and give yourself the best surgery times. Yesterday, you erased my cardiomyoplasty at 9am and put it at 7pm so you could schedule a tummy tuck earlier. Do you know how long a cardiomyoplasty takes?”

“You’re not an attending. I’m giving priority to the doctors who keep this hospital running.”

“You’re causing chaos on the surgical board,” Thawne says. He’s genuinely offended someone isn’t playing fair.

“We’re not talking about me,” Mick says. “We’re talking about the kid. I want him on my service, Snart. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Thawne considers Jax, trying to determine something special about an intern that would have Len and Mick - the two doctors least likely to want an intern on their cases - fighting over him. “You haven’t done a cardio rotation yet, have you?”

“Don’t butt in, Thawne,” Mick warns. “He’s mine next.”

“That sounds ominous,” Martin says.

Everyone is heading to lunch apparently, because Joe is with Martin and neither of them have their tablets. They have the same reaction as Thawne, studying Jax a little too closely for Len’s liking. He is not giving up his intern, especially not while Barry - He stops himself from finishing that thought. It’s been a week since Barry left. Residents take their vacation in two week blocks. It’s almost over. Just one more week until he’s back. If he’s even coming back to Len.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Jax says. “I take it as a compliment.”

“Of course you do,” Martin says. “But, um, to be clear. You are planning on a neuro rotation as well, yes? We wouldn’t want you to miss out on the most important and exciting surgeries that happen at this hospital.”

“Excuse me?” Joe interjects. “I think general surgery is the most important rotation for interns.”

Martin ignores him. “If all of these fine gentlemen want you on their service, Dr. Jackson, then you must have prodigious talent. I think you should be given the chance to try your skill with the most difficult surgeries we can challenge you with.”

Jax glances around nervously at the attendings edging closer, too eager to win themselves the best prize. “I’m gonna do all my rotations, yeah. But I’m actually interested in ortho as a specialty.”

Joe purses his lips and shakes his head, sore that no one thinks general surgery is all that exciting. Martin launches into a long-winded and condescending explanation of how ortho is inferior to neuro. Mick declares loudly that he called dibs so this is pointless. Len sighs longsufferingly, finally notices that no one has pressed the elevator call button yet and does so.

“Who called an attendings meeting?” Ray asks. He sees Jax hiding in the middle of the crowd and gives him a disapproving look, as though he’s crashed an official attendings meeting. He catches the gist of the argument quickly. “What about a Jax rotation?”

The elevator dings and Len is seriously considering the stairs just to get away from the attendings bickering over the intern like children fighting over the best toys. Harrison is on the elevator, also on his way down to lunch. Len is caught up in the crowd and ends up on the elevator anyway.

“What is a ‘Jax rotation’?” Harrison asks. Len really wishes he hadn’t. Ray explains the stupid concept. “We already have one of those, Ray. It’s called the intern rotation schedule and the Chief Resident sets it. Dr. Jackson, how long have you been on Dr. Snart’s service?”

Jax glances over at Len, an apology on his face because he too knows what decision is about to be handed down. It’s not Jax’s fault, but Len can’t summon up a nod for the kid to let him know it’s okay.

“Since April.”

“April.” Harrison doesn’t sound impressed. “Twice as long as interns are supposed to be on any one service. Dr. Jackson, you can finish out the day with Dr. Snart, but see the Chief Resident for another assignment starting tomorrow.”

Lisa is eating lunch with Iris when the attendings descend on her, all pleading their case as to why Jax should be on their service next. Lisa’s eyes narrow in Jax’s direction. She, like everyone else, wants to know what’s so great about this particular intern.

“Starting tomorrow, you’re on ortho,” Lisa declares. “With me.”

Jax tries to hide his excitement, but no one else is paying attention. They’re all breaking up into groups, heading off to find lunch or ask what that was all about. It would be hilarious, grown men and surgeons bickering over an intern without having any idea of his actual skills but still wanting to one-up each other, if it didn’t end with Len standing there alone. No intern, no resident. Just Len. The way it used to be before Barry barged into his life.

Except Len doesn’t remember being alone hurting this much before. He doesn’t remember being cognizant of his aloneness, the wrongness of standing apart in a crowded room, the hollowness of living in isolation. He hasn’t had a conversation outside of the hospital in a week, hasn’t touched anyone not a patient, hasn’t been touched by anyone at all.

He can see that Mick and Harrison have saved him a seat at their table, but he takes his lunch to his office and stares at the container and doesn’t eat it. Instead, he texts Barry. It’s different than the texts he’s sent before. He’s mostly sure by this point that Barry is okay, that Felicity is taking care of him, so he doesn’t ask how Barry is doing. This text only says: I miss you.

He doesn’t get a response.

o o o

Len can feel himself becoming comfortable with solitude again when he’s working. He doesn’t look for Barry, doesn’t feel the emptiness beside him when he’s talking to patients and performing surgeries. That’s reserved for the hours he’s not at the hospital and makes too much food for dinner because it’s a habit to cook for two or when he can’t fall asleep with no one beside him. It’s stupid because he and Barry don’t live together so they don’t cook together or fall asleep together every night. But it happens anyway.

His otherwise unremarkable and stupidly lonely Thursday night is interrupted by Lisa and Mick barging into his apartment unannounced. It’s not unheard of, but lately they’ve been better at calling ahead so they don’t interrupt an evening with Barry, but since Barry isn’t here, they’re back to surprize home invasions.

“We brought booze.” The sound of clinking glass accompanies Mick setting the bag in his arms down on the counter.. “A lot of booze.”

Len doesn’t have any early surgeries tomorrow so he indulges in whatever Lisa pushes into his hand. Bourbon. Mick’s choice then. When neither of them make a move to turn on the television or fiddle with his stereo or pull out the stack of takeout menus in the kitchen, he knows what he’s in for. He’s not in the mood for talking. He wants to enjoy his bourbon as much as anyone can enjoy bourbon and sit quietly. If he’s lucky, they’ll keep each other entertained by ranting about interns or the board. Of course, he’s not lucky.

“You haven’t talked to the kid,” Mick says without preamble.

“Can we not do this tonight?”

Lisa and Mick share a look that says they’ve planned this conversation, and if these two are planning, things are dire.

“We’re worried about you,” Lisa says. “I stole your intern right out from under you. Why aren’t you furious at me?”

Len takes another drink of his bourbon. It burns on the way down and settles warmly in his stomach. He hates the feeling. It’s too similar to the way Barry makes him feel - warm, melting, heady. He stares at the amber liquid as he spins the heavy tumbler between his fingers.

“How sweet,” he says sardonically. “It’s not a big deal. Jax can’t stay on my service his entire residency. I’ll manage without him.”

“Will you?” Lisa challenges. They’re not talking about Jax now so Len doesn’t answer. “Because it seems like this is taking too much of a toll on you. Maybe you should talk to him.”

“I’ve tried,” Len says, an edge of anger and warning in his voice. Lisa and Mick exchange another glance, and this one says Len has confirmed their worst suspicions. “Are you two under the impression you’re helping? Because you’re not.”

“We brought you booze,” Mick says. He sounds offended.

There’s only one thing that can help Len, and that’s talking to Barry. He can explain, he can make things right. If only Barry would take his calls or respond to this texts. He finishes off his bourbon and Mick immediately pours him a second. It’s going to be that kind of night.

They’ve polished off one of the bottles of bourbon when Len has the idea. Lisa’s phone pings, alerting her to a text, and judging by her grin, it’s Cisco. Len watches her type back a response and doesn’t listen to whatever Mick is saying about his favorite scrub nurse.

“Lise,” he says. His head is fuzzy, but his voice is clear. “I didn’t mean what I said before. You can help me.” She looks surprised. And wary. “I need a favor. I need you to get me Cisco’s phone. Barry will answer if it’s Cisco calling.”

Mick clears his throat uncomfortably while Lisa glares at Len. “That’s ... not a good idea, Len,” he says.

“It’s a great idea,” Len argues. “Then I can talk to Barry and everything can be okay again.”

“You’re an asshole,” Lisa snaps. “You’re asking me to steal something? And from my boyfriend, no less.”

“He’s drunk,” Mick says placatingly. That’s how Len knows things are spiraling out of control. Mick never mediates.

“It’s a great idea,” Len mumbles. Mick groans and throws his hands up, as if to say Len deserves what’s coming to him now.

“ _You’re asking me to steal_ ,” Lisa hisses. “Do you know who you sound like right now?”

Len’s insides are already on fire from the bourbon. He barely feels the burning shame piled on top of the alcohol. Lisa jumps to her feet and almost loses her balance. Mick steadies her and tries to push her back onto the couch.

“You can’t drive,” he says when she resists. “We’re staying here tonight.”

“We can’t stay here,” Lisa snarls, “or there will only be one Snart sibling alive in the morning.”

“And everyone thinks I’m the dramatic one,” Len drawls.

Mick holds Lisa back with both arms around her waist, not that her drunken windmilling punches would have done much damage. Lisa lands a few elbows to Mick’s solar plexus and he releases her. She doesn’t charge at Len again, but she’s a picture of fury.

“Do you know why people run from you, Len? It’s because you make it so fucking easy. All of this shit with Barry, it’s your fault. You didn’t tell him how you felt, so when you fucked up and hurt him, he didn’t think there was any reason to stay and fight with you.”

“You don’t know everything,” Len growls. “Barry and I are making progress.”

“Obviously, you’re not. You’re not making progress with anyone right now. Or basically ever. You don’t need progress. You need a fucking revolution.”

Len blinks and shakes his head, not following that line of thinking. Maybe he could if his brain didn’t feel like it was sloshing inside his head. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the way you treat people. Cisco asked you to get drinks two months ago. He came to you with his heart on his sleeve, trying to be your friend, doing everything I asked him to to make me happy. You promised you would, and then you just, what, decided not to bother with him after all? You didn’t think that would hurt him?”

“I’m not overly concerned with Cisco’s _feelings_ , no,” Len says, lip curling.

He forgot that he’s never made it out to Saints & Sinners with Cisco. They’d never rescheduled after Cisco got called into surgery that day, and since summer is the busiest time for peds, Len hasn’t wanted to give up rarer evenings with Barry.

“That right there is exactly what I’m talking about,” Lisa yells. “It’s not hard to imagine why Barry had enough of you.”

Len doesn’t remember much of what happens after that the next morning. He knows he yelled at Lisa, said some hurtful and insulting things on purpose. His jaw is sore, so she probably got a good punch in. She might have knocked him out because he doesn’t remember how he got into his bed. He guesses he has Mick to thank for making it to bed instead of lying passed out on the living room floor.

It’s the first full night of sleep Len has had in over a week. He feels like hell.

o o o

When the buzzer disturbs Len’s solitude on Sunday night, he assumes it’s Mick coming to see if Len and Lisa are over whatever happened on Thursday so he can stop getting caught in the middle. (Lisa is definitely not over it. If looks could kill, Len would be in the morgue.) But it’s not Mick. It’s Barry.

Len’s first reaction is to slam the door in Barry’s face. His next is to kiss Barry so hard it hurts. He does neither, just stands there frozen with indecision. Barry is fidgeting, nervous, not quite meeting Len’s eyes. There’s a vaguely smoky scent in the air that means Barry ran here at superspeed and ruined another pair of shoes and Len doesn’t know how to feel about that because it means Barry ran to him faster than any other person alive could do, but also means Barry had to run to him because he left in the first place.

“Can I ... come in?” Barry asks.

Len stands aside. Barry hovers, glances around like he doesn’t know if he’s really welcome here. Len’s not sure he is. He doesn’t say anything. The longer the silence stretches between them, the harder Len’s heartbeat pounds in his ears.

“Len, I ... I should have talked to you before now. Or at least texted you back. I’m ... I’m so sorry.”

“You shouldn’t have left in the first place.” Len recognizes his voice as if it’s a memory - affected, drawling, cold, the voice he doesn’t use with Barry anymore. “You lied to Harrison. You abandoned your patients.”

He’s not talking about Harrison or patients. Barry knows it because his worry shatters into guilt. It paints his face with regret and shines wetly in his eyes.

“I know. I just ... Len, I killed a kid.” Barry runs a hand over his face. “It doesn’t matter that Mardon is responsible too. Or that I didn’t mean to. I killed a ten-year-old kid. I couldn’t ....” He draws in a shaky breath. “I couldn’t stand to stay in the hospital and work in that OR and ... I needed some space from it.”

Len mulls over the words, looking for double meanings. Maybe Barry did need some space from him. That’s what Lisa thinks. But there’s too much raw pain in his voice. All of this, it’s about Barry killing his first patient with a stupid mistake. Every surgeon goes through it at some point. Some of them recover from it faster than others. Some of them never recover at all. Len’s anger spikes. Not at Barry, not entirely anyway, but at himself. He’d made it worse, driven Barry to an extreme reaction, had made it so fucking easy for Barry to run.

“You could have come here.”

“I ... couldn’t talk to you. Not after what you said to me.”

Len accepts that. It hurts, but he accepts it because he knows it’s fair. He doesn’t know where to go from here. He can’t take back what he said, and Barry can’t take back running away. But they’re here, together, so that has to be enough.

“Okay,” Len says.

“Okay?”

“Okay, I understand why you wouldn’t talk to me.”

“I _couldn’t_.”

“Okay.”

Barry is frustrated. It’s written on his brow and the turn of his lips, but Len doesn’t have anything else to say. He’s still too raw, too lonely, too cold. Barry is close enough that it’s easy to reach out for him and pull him into a searing kiss. He hesitates at first, but becomes pliant under Len’s hands, and then too eager like he’s starving without Len’s touches. This will be enough because it has to be.

They don’t talk while they shed their clothes and stumble into the bedroom. They’re both hard and aching for each other when Barry falls back onto the bed and rolls onto his stomach for Len to open him up. Len’s fingers are fast and rough, so unlike his usual way, and he hears a buzz like a warning bell in his head, but Barry doesn’t complain. He asks for it faster when Len pushes into him too fast already, so Len obliges. He holds Barry’s hips and fucks into him and they both come too soon.

After, Barry cleans them up and showers Len with kisses he doesn’t want tonight because he doesn’t deserve them. He doesn’t deserve a peaceful sleep either, but his sated body and the warmth of Barry next to him drags him away from consciousness anyway. He’s almost asleep when Barry drops a kiss on his ear.

“I missed you too,” Barry whispers. “I was a mess without you. I should have told you that.”

Len doesn’t know if Barry really said it or not. Maybe he only dreamed what he wants to hear.

o o o

Things spiral downhill fast. It starts the next morning on the drive to work when Barry asks why Len took his shower before the alarm went off. The implication is that Len has deprived Barry of sex and showering together after. But it’s Barry who has stolen two weeks of that from them. Or it’s Len who did that. He can’t make up his mind who to blame. He grips the steering wheel tighter and doesn’t say anything.

Then Barry asks why Jax isn’t on Len’s service anymore, and there’s a note of frustration in his voice, like it’s Len’s fault that the hospital has rules for residency, and says that their work would go much smoother and faster with an intern to help. Len can’t help himself from saying the last two weeks would have gone better with a resident to help. Barry is upset and distant the rest of the day and so is Len.

By the end of the week, it’s obvious to everyone who works with Len and Barry - the surgical team, and Mick and Jax because Daniel has another appointment - that they’ve lost their synchronicity. They both ask and hesitate at the same time. Sometimes they’ll both request a scalpel and the scrub nurse will glance between them awkwardly until Len asserts his authority as the attending. Sometimes they’ll both hesitate to answer a patient’s question, thinking the other would rather field it, and Len has to prompt Barry like they’re back to being nothing but attending and resident.

Lisa takes pity on Len after Mick or Jax tells her what’s going on, and it helps having her around again. But nothing can cure the constant ache of what’s missing. The worst part of it all is the feeling of isolation while Barry is standing right next to him. They’re partners, romantically and professionally. Barry is the only person Len has ever really trusted with his heart or his patients. It feels like they’re nemeses standing on opposite sides of a thin line and it isn’t long until someone calls a retreat. Len thinks it will probably be him since he doesn’t have a great track record with relationships, so it hurts that much worse when it’s Barry.

“I know we had plans,” Barry starts, “but Eddie is doing a TMR and I’ve never seen one so I’m going to watch from the gallery with Iris and Caitlin.”

Len doesn’t push. If they spend the evening together, it’ll either end in angry or uncomfortable silence anyway. He only nods, finishes packing up this things, and heads for the elevator. He can feel Barry’s eyes on his retreating back, but he doesn’t turn around.

Cisco joins Len in the elevator on the third floor. His hair is freshly washed and tied back. Neurosurgeons don’t usually get covered in blood and bodily fluids in surgery the way other surgeons do, but they’re as prone to it outside of the OR as anyone, and Cisco is wearing an expression that says a patient either bleed to death or projectile vomited on him less than an hour ago.

“I owe you a drink.”

Len doesn’t know why he picks this day, of all days, to remember his promise to Cisco and Lisa, but it’ll be easier to deal with Cisco if something has tempered his perpetual sunniness. Apparently, nothing can do that, though. He brightens the instant Len makes the suggestion, forgetting all about the reason he had to shower before leaving work.

“Is that an invitation? Because I can totally be free tonight.”

Len doesn’t ask what his plans included. “Yeah, it was an invitation.”

Cisco manages more than eighty percent of the conversation on the walk to Saints & Sinners. Len finds out, in great detail, about the recovery of the neuro patient who emptied the contents of his stomach onto Cisco while getting out of bed for the first time since his surgery. Cisco tells the story like it’s a horror movie. Len has seen a lot as a surgeon, especially a peds surgeon, so he’s impressed that Cisco can make him cringe with his descriptions.

Len orders a beer from the bartender. Cisco orders a mixed drink which means it’s probably lightweight and that Lisa definitely drinks him under the table regularly. They sit at the bar, the noisy room at their backs and sip their drinks.

“Enjoying your Shirley Temple?” Len asks wryly.

“There’s Jaeger and schnapps in this.” Cisco never sounds defensive, even when he is. “It’s better than your Miller Lite or whatever is in that bottle. You could have at least gotten something on tap.”

Len spins the bottle toward Cisco, showing him the label. “Don’t insult my taste in beer.”

“Don’t insult my taste in drinks.”

“I think my grandmother used to order that drink.”

“Really? Your grandmother ordered Redheaded Sluts?” Len laughs in surprise and chokes on his beer. Cisco shrugs. “It’s a crude name, but I discovered them in college and haven’t been able to give them up.”

“You know I’m going to find a way to work your love of redheaded sluts into a conversation with Lisa.”

Cisco grins like an idiot. “I have a story about that, but it involves Lisa picking me up in this bar so I’ll skip winning this conversation for your sake.”

Len doesn’t know why he waited so long to take Cisco up on his offer for drinks. He likes the kid on principle because he treats Lisa well, but he’s funny too and keeps Len entertained with his witty and optimistic observations about their colleagues (except Rathaway, and his vehement hatred is even funnier by comparison).

Everything goes off the rails when Barry, Iris, and Eddie walk in an hour later, though. Barry stops short just inside the door, his expression flickering from surprise to confusion to something Len can’t work out quickly enough. Cisco looks between Barry and Len like his loyalty is torn, but he stays in his seat and orders them another round even though they should both stick to one drink so they can make it home safely. Len’s mood is ruined, though.

“Look, I know I’m risking bodily injury by saying anything,” Cisco starts. Len gives him an icy glare. “But ... you gotta work things out with Barry.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Len drawls. “I had no idea we needed to do that.”

“Yeah,” Cisco draws out the word, “but neither of you know _how_ to work things out. Barry is a master at suffering in silence. And from what Lisa says, the only way you know how to fight is dirty.”

Len fiddles with the label on the beer bottle and frowns at the sticky bar. “She’s not wrong.”

“So you do get that this cold shoulder thing is the worst possible way to fight?”

“Well, I am Captain Cold.”

Cisco blanches. The residents probably think he doesn’t know about his nickname, or that Cisco dubbed him Captain Cold before realizing he and Lisa are siblings, but he does and always has. He likes the name, though, so he’s never mentioned it.

“Did you retroactively make me use a pun? Son of bitch.” Len cracks a smile, but it disappears when Cisco nudges his arm. A dangerous action, but Len finds he doesn’t mind as much as he should in theory. “Now answer my question.”

“Yes, Cisco. I am aware there are better methods of conflict resolution.”

“It’s not just that, though. It’s like you two think problems magically go away on their own. You’re gonna have to fight it out, like, with words. I mean, you don’t have to take advice from a guy who’s been in a relationship for four years and is practically engaged, but ... you might consider locking yourselves in a room and having it out until you two figure out how to stop fighting against each other and start fighting with each other.”

o o o

It takes Len a long time, too long, to take Cisco’s advice. The thing is, Len has never fought it out before. He’s given up, been given up on, let things fall apart, let things heal on their own. He’s never had to fight his way back to someone. He doesn’t know if he’s capable of that. Things have been good or they’ve been a lost cause. But things aren’t good right now and he doesn’t want this to be a lost cause so he brings it up when they’re in the scrub room alone.

“We need to have a fight.”

Barry pauses scrubbing his arms. “Why do you want to fight?”

“Because we hurt each other and we haven’t found our way back yet. I don’t know about you, but I’m angry about that. I’m so pissed off at you and myself that I can’t stop saying shitty things that hurt us both. I want to stop being cruel to you and I want you to stop avoiding me, and I don’t know how to do that except to fight it out.”

Barry goes back to scrubbing, but doesn’t say anything for awhile. “I mean, nothing else has worked so ... okay. I’ll come over tomorrow? We don’t have any surgeries.”

“I’ll take care of it with Harrison.”

The fight is ugly and long, full of frustration and so many goddamn hurtful words that Len feels like he’s splitting apart. If this doesn’t work, Lisa will have to find another fiance because, if Cisco put them through this for nothing, Len will kill him.

“Okay, but why did you have to say _that_?” Barry asks. “I get that I made a mistake and someone died. I’ve owned up to that, and I’ll have to do it again at the next M &M. You had every right to tell me I screwed up. But why did you have to say _that_?”

“I don’t know!” Len growls, repeating his answer for the tenth time. He drops his head into his hands. “I don’t know, Barry. I hurt people. It’s what I do.”

“And I’m people now?”

“You were then. You were a resident who made a stupid mistake that cost a kid his life, so yeah, you were people because if I treated you like my boyfriend in that moment, I wouldn’t have been doing my job.”

“You don’t think watching a child die is enough to drive the point home? You had to turn my own words against me?”

“Yes, I did. I thought I did. I know now that I didn’t, but I thought I did then.”

They don’t yell so much after that, and it feels like some kind of accomplishment.

“You left me without a word,” Len says.

“I’ve explained that.” Barry paces around the living room, at normal speed, running his hands through his hair.

“You lied to Harrison about it. You told him I was okay with you leaving.”

“I thought you would be! I just ... I don’t mean to keep bringing this up, okay? You’ve admitted it was wrong, and I want to let it go, but it’s related. I don’t - didn’t - see how you can say something like that to me and care about me at all.”

Len lets the present tense go because he has something more pressing to say, something that has to be purged from the dark corner of his mind where it’s been torturing him for almost a month.

“You left me for Felicity.”

Barry stops pacing like he’s hit a brick wall. He’s shaking his head before he says anything. “No, Len. It’s not like that. I didn’t cheat on you. I went to Star City because I don’t have anywhere else to go that isn’t here or the hospital. She and I haven’t been together for a long time, but we’re always going to be huge parts of each others’ lives. I promise, Len, I didn’t cheat. Not in any sense of the word.”

“I wish you had,” Len says. “I wish that’s why you’d gone to her. I could handle that, you wanting sex with your pretty ex-girlfriend because I pushed you away. What I hate is that she can give you something I can’t. I hate that I’m not your white knight.”

Barry’s face shifts from bewilderment to sadness. “I didn’t know you wanted to be,” Barry says quietly. “You could be.”

“No, I can’t. You won’t let me be, Barry. I screwed up once and you left me. I’ve done everything for you. I bent all my rules. I broke them. I’ve changed who I am. For you. What else can I do to convince you that I love you?”

They’re silent for the first time since Barry showed up. Len sees the fight leave Barry in the relaxing of his shoulders and light in his eyes and upturn of his lips. The tension between them dissipates like fog on a sunny day, and not because of three words, but because they make sense of the thousand others spoken today.

“You love me?”

Len swallows thickly. The words clog his throat and his voice is raspy when he pushes them out. “I’ve always loved you.”

Barry is in Len’s arms at superspeed and Len holds him so tightly they can’t breathe. Barry rubs comforting circles into his back when Len dips his head to hide his tears in Barry’s collarbone. Len doesn’t cry. Ever. He doesn’t know why he’s crying right now, except maybe it’s relief that he hasn’t lost Barry.

They have more to talk about - talk, not fight - but not right now when they’re wrung out and too raw and can’t think about anything but the fact that there’s something here worth saving. They fall asleep on the couch tangled in each other. Barry wakes Len near midnight and they move to the bedroom so they’re not nursing sore necks and backs in the morning and fall asleep tangled in each other again.

o o o

Len has never really had makeup sex before, but now he understands what the fuss is about. He feels lost in Barry, like everything is brand new and bright again, like he’s discovering Barry for the first time all over again.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Len murmurs.

Barry is flushed and sweaty and writhing under him, gasping and moaning and begging Len for more. Barry blinks heavy-lidded eyes, a mischievous smile stretching over his lips. “You know how to take me apart.”

Len dips his head at the challenge, feels the rumble of Barry’s laugh in his chest, but he’s not going to pass up the opportunity. He presses his lips to Barry’s ear and whispers, “I love you.”

Barry presses his head back into the pillow, arches up into Len, and Len can’t resist giving Barry exactly what he wants. His hips set a faster rhythm and he tells Barry how good he feels, how much Len loves him, how gorgeous he is, how much Len wants him to come. And he does, when Len asks him to. Then Barry flips them over and rides Len fast and hard until Len comes and Barry comes again. It’s hot and a little dirty and Len loves it because it’s good and always surprising how much Barry gets off on it.

They bask in each other after, kissing and touching until their lips are bruised and sore. It gets Barry worked up again, so Len slides down the bed, peppering Barry’s torso with kisses, and takes him into his mouth. Barry’s hand only rests on Len’s head so he sets a languid pace, drawing out Barry’s third orgasm as long as he can, until Barry is shaking and pleading. Len relaxes his throat and takes Barry in all the way and swallows while Barry practically sobs with relief.

“Finally sated?” Len teases.

Barry curls into his arms. “Fuck you,” he says with no heat behind the words.

Len chuckles in response. “I don’t know, Barry. We might have met the limits of your refractory period at last.”

Barry can’t deny it. So he doesn’t try.

Morning sunlight sets fire to the curtains before they’ve fallen asleep. Barry thinks it’s fantastic they had sex all night, and so does Len, but he also feels his age when they climb out of bed to take a shower. He’s tired from not sleeping and will be stealing naps all day at work. (Fortunately, that’s acceptable for surgeons.) His legs and shoulders are sore, but he mentions it to Barry and gets a massage in the shower and a blowjob when they’re drying off.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, kid,” Len says after.

Barry grins up at Len from where he is on his knees and finishes drying Len’s still sore legs for him.

There is a trip to Jitters on the way to the hospital and the barista probably thinks Len is going to have a heart attack right in front of her because he orders his coffee with a triple shot of espresso. There are stolen kisses in the parking lot and the elevator before they have to go separate ways to start their days.

Mick takes one look at Len, starts laughing, and claps him on the back. It’s a domino effect from there. Barry’s friends go out of their way to smile at him and say hello in the hallways. Lisa finds him after morning rounds and hands him fifty dollars in tens - his cut of her winnings.

“You all need to stop betting on my love life,” Len says. He shoves the money back at her.

“But we’re surgical residents. We don’t have a life outside of the hospital and right now you and Barry are the most dramatic thing in our lives.”

“Me and Barry are more dramatic than life-saving surgeries and cutting edge medical research?”

“Yup.”

Barry joins Len in an on call room after lunch, and they say they’re going to take a nap, but they end up with their scrub pants around the knees and Barry on top of Len with his hand wrapped around them both. Then they take a nap, which Len is not too proud to admit he desperately needs. He feels like his thoughts are bleeding out of his ears he’s so tired.

“I really think we have to just go to sleep when we get home,” Len says on their way out of the hospital at 8pm. “Food, then sleep. Please?”

“You’re begging me _not_ to have sex with you?” Barry laughs, but even he looks dead on his feet.

Lisa thwarts their plans of an early evening, though. She’s broken into Len’s apartment and brought guests. Mick, Cisco, Ronnie, Eddie, Jax and Iris are there too, and they’ve already started drinking. Jax looks bewildered that he’s surrounded by senior residents and attendings, but relaxes when Ronnie strikes up a conversation with him. Mick and Lisa keep proposing toasts like “Thank God they’re fucking again!” and “To the sated couple!” which, admittedly, gets funnier the more they drink. Caitlin shows up two hours later with a wild story about Joe West removing half a patient’s internal organs to remove a tumor.

Barry falls asleep on Len in the middle of Caitlin’s story which is Len’s cue to make their exit. He and Barry strip down and fall into bed, unaware of how long the party continues in the living room.

“That was sort of fun,” Barry mumbles. “I like our friends hanging out together.”

“Yeah, but it would be better with pre-arranged plans and less breaking and entering.”

“I’ll tell Cisco and Caitlin to stay away on Wednesday.”

They’ve made plans to cook dinner and talk on Wednesday because they’ve decided to take Cisco’s advice and fight together, which means they have to talk strategy even when there aren’t battlefields to traverse. Len isn’t worried, though. Maybe he should be, but he’s not. He feels like melting ice and flowing water. It’s a good feeling.

o o o

Barry doesn’t know how to dress himself or cook. Len has known this for awhile, and he thinks it’s endearing. Currently, Barry is flummoxed about how to thaw shrimp for the pasta primavera and questioning Len’s supposedly exemplary planning skills.

“I’m just saying, you should have taken the shrimp out of the freezer last night,” Barry says.

“Just put them in some cold water,” Len says. Barry looks dubious. “I swear, cold water will work.”

Barry reluctantly fills a bowl with cold water and empties the package of shrimp into it. He pokes at it occasionally, as if still deeply unsure the shrimp will ever be thawed enough to eat.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Len says, to distract him from the perfectly fine shrimp. “How do you get enough calories every day? I’ve done some calculations, and it doesn’t seem possible to actually eat that much while still doing rounds and labs and surgeries.”

“I’m pretty much always eating when I have a few minutes.” He grins impishly. “A few minutes meaning a break, but not a long enough break to find you in an on call room.”

“Right. Priorities.”

“Exactly. Sometimes I have to superspeed through a meal between surgeries so I don’t pass out. And I’ve figured out that I need a lot less calories if I don’t use my speed at all.”

Len takes the boiling pasta off the stove and dumps it into the colander. Barry tries to immediately dump the pasta back into the pot when Len steps away from the sink which makes Len shake his head.

“Let it drain, Barry. Unless you want a sopping wet mess of pasta water and separated olive oil for dinner.”

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t let macaroni and cheese drain.”

“Let me guess, you’re talking about the blue box?”

Len shakes his head and adds baked macaroni and cheese made with bechamel to the list of things he needs to cook for Barry. He let’s the subject of Barry’s abysmal diet go for now. He’ll work on it by preparing better meals for Barry.

“Does it bother you not using your speed?” Len asks.

Barry shrugs. “Sometimes? It’s like how you get if you can’t get in a workout two days in a row. It’s not any worse because it’s a metahuman ability. I like running at superspeed. It’s fun, it’s exhilarating. But I don’t feel a compulsion to use it or anything.”

“So you’re calling bullshit on Bivolo’s defense?”

Barry snorts. Roy Bivolo and his attorney have been on the local news pleading ‘extraordinary circumstances related to metahuman powers’ for weeks in the hopes the jury will buy it as a kind of biological addiction beyond anyone’s ability to control.

“Yes,” Barry says firmly. He pokes at the shrimp again. “Whoa! They’re thawed.”

“Pour them into the other colander,” Len says, failing to hide his amusement. “And the pasta should be drained enough to go back in the pot.”

They work side-by-side in the kitchen with the same ease as in the operating room. Len finishes sauteeing the vegetables and shrimp, mixes it together with the pasta, and tosses it in extra virgin olive oil while Barry sets the table, struggles to uncork the wine, complains that Len buys corked wine, and hands the bottle over to Len to open.

“You’re perfect,” Len says. He hands back the opened wine bottle so Barry can pour while Len takes dinner to the table.

Len doesn’t know how to describe the conversation over dinner. They don’t talk about anything deep or meaningful, but it feels significant. There’s a lot of teasing and laughter, but it feels important. It doesn’t quite feel like surgery - they’re not repairing anything, he doesn’t think - but similar. They’re building something new, he decides as they clear away the plates, and it’s foundation is something light, but tempered and strong.

“It’s tempting to not talk anymore tonight,” Len says. He settles on the couch next to Barry and takes his hand. “But I want things to always be this good, so ....”

Barry links his fingers with Len’s. “Yeah, me too. And kind of for my own peace of mind, I need to know that we can talk about the big things without yelling.”

Len nods, focuses on their hands. “I guess I do too. I don’t have great examples, Barry. My dad yelled at my mom and Lisa’s mom all the time. He yelled at us even when he wasn’t hitting us. I haven’t done this before. My previous relationships either worked or they ended.”

“My parents never fought,” Barry says. A wistful smile lifts the corners of his mouth and he leans into Len, as if his memories can bleed into him if they’re closer. “They were so in love. If they disagreed, they ... I don’t know, I used to think it was magic the way they figured it out.”

They’re silent for a minute and then share a look that leads to laughter. It’s not funny, exactly, how they stumble onto these revelations about themselves and each other, but it’s a laugh or cry situation and they laugh. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Barry laughs. “This was our parents fault?”

“Sure looks that way.”

Their good humor gives way to solemnity too soon and Len is left with the memories dredged up by his admission about his family. There are things he needs to tell Barry, to explain why he is the way he is. The unspoken words taste like bile on his tongue so he spits them out, empties them into the space between him and Barry, and hopes Barry can rearrange them, make sense of them.

“I didn’t know my mom left right away,” Len says. “I woke up one morning and she wasn’t there. I went to school thinking everything was normal. But then she wasn’t there when I went to bed either. I still don’t know why she didn’t take me with her.”

“Oh God,” Barry whispers. “That’s what Lisa tried to tell me before I left. I ... Len, I’m so sorry.”

“So am I, Barry. You told me about your foster parents. I should have known how much unkind words hurt you. I shouldn’t have let my job as your attending and ... everything else make me forget that.”

“Everything else?”

Len draws in a deep breath. “I really have loved you for a long time, Barry. I fell in love with you when I saw you playing with that stupid yo-yo. You should know that I always hurt the things I love. Just ask Lisa. She’s been putting up with my shit her whole life.”

“Why do you do that?”

“The same reason you run from the things you love.”

Barry expels a breath like Len has punched him in the chest, but he nods slowly. Len doesn’t think Barry knows why he runs - physically and emotionally - from the people he loves anymore than Len knows why he says vicious things to the people he loves. It’s part of the complex web of scars written on their bodies and minds. They might never fully understand, even if they spend their whole lives following the threads of who they are to the actions of the people who made them this way.

“I’m not a perfect person, Len. I can’t promise I won’t do that again, but I will promise to talk to you about it next time.”

Len can’t ask for more than he can give, so he nods. “All I can promise is the same.”

Lisa said that revolution is better than progress, and Len thinks he finally understands what she means. Progress is a fickle companion. It’s deceptive, a liar, a cheat. It twists reality, allows him to see what he wants. Revolution, it upsets the playing field, flips the world, demands a new perspective, breaks old patterns and forms new alliances. If love is a war zone, it should be a revolution with two people fighting against the past and for a better future.

“We’ll be okay,” Len says.

“We’ll be better than that,” Barry says.

There are other talks to have, other battles in their revolution still to come, some of them very public and on shaky ground. Len will broach that subject another day when they’re settled into the familiar again and they can talk about the future without the giddiness of newly declared love influencing their decisions.

For now, Len needs to be finished with discussing heavy topics and now he knows that Barry will understand that, respect that, react to it in the way that Len needs him to because Len will talk even when he doesn’t want to because that’s what Barry needs from him.

“I have something important to tell you,” Len says.

Barry waits, curiosity bringing his brows together and making him tilt his head at the perfect angle. Len kisses him deeply, and he knows his message is received because Barry smiles into the kiss and chuckles when they separate.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story. I would appreciate your comments and kudos if you did. I don't have a beta-reader so all mistakes are my own. (I'm happy to correct if you point them out to me.) I’ve started writing the next installment in the series so it will continue. The stories will be moving on to their established relationship next. (Thank goodness the angst is done! That was painful to write.) I’ll keep you updated on my writing progress on my tumblr. I’m arainymonday there too.


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